“Nothing, nothing.” Needing to look away, I gathered our beer bottles and straightened up the magazines. “It was fine. He was fine. It’s just—I don’t know, I was nervous or self-conscious or something. All the parts went into the right places, you know, but…it just wasn’t…shut up, Katie.”
My oldest friend in the world was shaking with laughter, tears streaming down her face. I glared for a moment, then gave in and laughed with her.
A FEW HOURS LATER, WE WERE at the Orleans Prison, a cute and reliable restaurant that used to be, obviously, a prison. Thick stone walls and barred windows made up the bar, and the restaurant spread out in a new wing behind us. We were deep into a discussion of reality dating shows.
“I’d like to see one that’s really real,” Katie said. “Like, I could tell a guy how my life really is, and then see if he’d want to share his trust fund with me.”
“What would you ask?” I took a slug of my wine.
“Oh, like, ‘Bachelor Number One…my son has diarrhea and missed the toilet. Do you wipe his crusty little bottom first or clean up the floor?’”
I laughed. “Or ‘Bachelor Number Two…I haven’t had time to shave my legs or underarms in six weeks. Do you feel this makes me less attractive?’”
“How about, ‘I have dry, itchy winter skin, Evan. How do you feel about scratching my shins?’”
Heads turned at our laughter, but we didn’t care. We ordered some Frangelico for after-dinner drinks, feeling very sophisticated, despite all evidence to the contrary.
“Guess what Mikey told my parents the other day?” Katie asked, smiling.
“What?” I had a definite soft spot for my younger godson.
“He wants a vagina.”
I choked on my drink and then exploded into giggles. “Oh, no! What did they say?”
“They told him to ask Santa.” Katie wheezed with laughter.
“I’m sorry. I should never have given them that anatomy book,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“Yes. ‘Winky’ and ‘down there’ sound so much better,” she answered. “Speaking of vaginas and winkies, tell me more about Joe.”
I grinned, happy for a chance to discuss J.C. “Hmm. Well, he’s very sweet,” I said.
“What does he do that’s sweet?” She took another sip of Frangelico, only to find her glass was empty.
“Oh, he stopped by yesterday on his way home,” I said. This was a mere four days after our first time, and I’d been absolutely thrilled that Joe was seeking me out.
“Stopped by for not-great sex?” Katie asked, smiling wickedly.
I blushed. “It’s not him, I’m sure. And yes.”
We heard a murmur go up from the bar, and there he was, my very own Joe Carpenter. He called a hello to the bartender and looked around, waving when he saw us.
“He really is gorgeous,” Katie murmured appreciatively.
I sighed with lust. “I know.” Wearing only blue jeans and a worn T-shirt, Joe was nonetheless breathtaking. Every single woman at the bar, regardless of age, checked him out, and so did some of the men. He extricated himself from the crowd and came over. “I told him we were coming here,” I explained to Katie.
“Mmm hmm.”
“Hey,” Joe said, smiling down at us. “How was dinner?”
“It was…you know…not great,” Katie answered with a wicked smile, and I choked a little.
Joe straddled a chair and leaned in to kiss my hot, no doubt scarlet-colored cheek.
“Don’t make yourself too comfortable, Joe,” I said, patting him on the leg with feigned casualness. His leg was warm and firm under his age-softened jeans. I caught a whiff of Ivory soap and wood and nearly swooned. “As I believe you were told, this is girls night out. No boys allowed.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” Katie began.
“No, no,” I insisted. “We don’t get too many nights out together, after all.”
Joe smiled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, girls. Just wanted to say hello. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right, Millie?”
“Um, yes. You bet.” It was hard to speak normally—Joe referring to our togetherness was quite overwhelming, and the alcohol in my system wasn’t helping. Still, I managed to smile at him.
“Great. Have a good time,” he said and ambled back to the bar. Katie and I watched as he was immediately approached by two women.
“Thanks for sending him away,” Katie smiled.
“Oh, sure,” I said, still gazing at Joe.
“You’re purring,” she commented.
“He’s so…I just…”
Thankfully, the waitress interrupted my drooling idiocy by placing two glasses of wine in front of us. “Courtesy of Brad Pitt over there,” she said with an appreciative nod at Joe, who waved cheerfully.
We talked about normal things like work and family and were reluctant to leave. My brain was blurry from the wine, despite the fact that I had stopped drinking a while ago. “You know, Katie,” I said, “I think we need to call someone for a ride. I don’t usually have more than a beer or two, and I definitely shouldn’t be driving.”
“Okay,” she said. “Joe would give us a ride, I’m sure.”
“No,” I answered. “No Joe. Joe had the pleasure of my company last night, and Joe must wait for it before he gets it again. The shecret of my shuccess.” At this very moment, Joe was nearly invisible, surrounded by a bevy of women. He caught my eye and grinned. Darling boy. I flushed with pleasure.
“Then let’s have another drinkie while we decide who’s lucky enough to come fetch us,” Katie suggested. She flagged our waitress down once more. “Yes, could we please have two slippery nipples?” she said in her sweetest voice. I exploded with laughter.
“You won’t be laughing when you taste them,” Katie said. “They’re gross. But fun to order. Should I call my parents? My dad will come get us.”
“No, because then they’ll think I’m a bad influence,” I reasoned. “And then they won’t babysit next time we want to do this. I’ll call my dad.”
“Yeah, right. I can just imagine how happy Big Barnes would be to see his little princess drunk.”
“Excellent point. Dad is still a teeny bit overprotective.”
“How about Trevor?” Katie named her twin brother, older than she was by eight minutes.
“No, Trevor doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, come on! He likes you fine!” Katie exclaimed.
“Nope. Not Trev. How about Steve?” I offered the name of another of Katie’s many brothers.
“Just married, remember? I don’t think Sheila would like him coming out at eleven o’clock to fetch his sister.” Our waitress brought the nipples, and they were, as promised, rather gross.
“Sam will come get us,” I said, watching as Katie sipped her, uh, drink. “How about Sam?”
Katie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Millie,” she warned.
“No, no, nothing like that. I’ve learned the error of my ways. But Sam’s sweet, and he won’t cop an attitude—get it? And besides, he never goes anywhere. He’d love to come and get us.”
“Do you swear you’re not trying to fix us up again?” she asked.
“Not unless you want me to,” I said innocently, though my eyes may have crossed a little.
“I don’t.”
“Okay, okay, but let’s call Sam. Sam’s awesome.” I fished my cell phone out of my bag and dialed Sam’s number. My nephew answered.
“Hi, Danny, how are you?”
“Hey, Aunt Mil. What’s up?”
Not wanting Danny to know I had been overindulging, I spoke carefully. “I’m looking for your father, Dan. Is he available?”
“Sure. Hang on. Dad,” he called. “It’s Aunt Millie. She sounds trashed.”
“Danny!” I said, simultaneously irritated and amused. “The boy can tell I’ve been drinking,” I said to Katie.
“Imagine that,” she answered dryly, taking a sip of water.
“Giving up on your nipple?” I asked, and we burst into laughter again as Sam came on the line. He agreed to join us at the Prison, and though it had become increasingly difficult for me to estimate time, appeared at our table a little while later.
“Hey, Millie, Katie,” he said, smiling and sitting down. Our faithful waitress, who had put up with us for hours now, took his order for a beer. “I understand you girls need a ride home.”
I sighed gustily. “Now who told you that? Danny? He’s jushta a child.”
Sam laughed softly. “I hope I am here to be your chauffeur, Millie, because there’s no way I’ll let you behind the wheel.”
“What about Katie?” I complained. “She’s been drinking, too!”
“At least Katie’s not sloppy,” Sam said, throwing Katie a little wink.
“Yeah, well, she can out-drink an Irish firefighter at a wake. And here I thought you’d be grateful that we rescued you from another night at home alone,” I said.
“Oh, I am, I am,” Sam replied. “It’s not every night I get to be with the two prettiest women on Cape Cod.”
Katie rolled her eyes, but such corn-pone sweetness made me want to weep, suddenly. “Sam, you’re the best,” I said sappily. “We love you, Sam.”
“Hey, guys.” Joe Carpenter stood at our table. “How’s it going, Sam?”
“Okay, Joe, how about yourself?”
“Never better. You playing next week?” Joe was no doubt referring to the sacred softball league.
“Yup. You guys?”
“That’s right. Thursday, I think.”
“Danny’s looking good. Fielding like Nomar of old,” Joe commented affably. I yawned hugely just as Joe turned to me. “Hey, girls, why does Sam get to hang out with you? I thought it was girls only. No boys allowed.”
Katie tossed her hair in an efficient shake. “Sam’s not a boy, Peter Pan. He’s a man.”
Joe looked startled for a second, but Sam intervened. “I’m here only as a public servant, Joe.” He smiled at me, eyes crinkling. I smiled drunkenly back. How I loved Sam!
“Right,” Joe said. “Well, I’ll let you guys be. Have a good night. See you tomorrow, Millie.” He leaned in and kissed me quickly on the mouth, then returned to his stool.
Sam led us to his car a short time later and drove us home. He kissed us each on the cheek, advised aspirin with an entire glass of water and drove off.
“You’re a prince, Sam,” I called, waving.
“He really is a prince,” Katie murmured. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m just stating a fact.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE DAY AFTER MY SLEEPOVER with Katie, Joe dropped by the clinic. Just his walking into the reception area caused a hushed and reverent silence to fall over Jill, Sienna and three female patients ranging in age from eleven to seventy-three.
“Hi, Millie,” he said as I came out of an exam room.
“Joe! Hi!”
“Got a minute?” he asked.
We ducked into my office.
“What’s up?” I murmured, a thread of uncertainty unraveling in my stomach.
“Oh, I was just driving by and saw your car,” he said, coming closer.
“Oh.” Think of something to say, quick.
“And I missed you.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
He kissed me then. Oh, Joe, I thought, I can’t believe we’re really together.
Ten minutes later, he left the clinic, waving cheerfully to Sienna and Jill, leaving me in a trembling pile of lust after six hundred seconds of glorious necking.
“My God, who was that? Millie, are you sleeping with that guy?” Sienna asked.
“Goodness! That Joe just gets better looking every time I see him,” Jill commented. “And are you sleeping with him, Millie?”
“Mrs. Doyle!” I said, reverting to childhood formality. “Sienna, that’s Joe Carpenter, the sweetest and most gorgeous man in the world.”
“He’s so…wow,” Sienna said, dazed. “He could be a movie star or something.”
“I know.” I grabbed a pen and wrote out a prescription. I may have been humming.
“I can’t believe he’s with you,” Sienna murmured, still staring at the parking lot. “I mean, you’re really great, Millie…it’s just that guys like that…uh…”
“What, Sienna?” I asked more sharply than I meant to.
She blushed. “Forget it. Sorry.”
Giving her a look, I went into the other exam room to see my next patient.
SIENNA WASN’T THE ONLY ONE who was surprised to learn that I was dating Joe.
On Thursday I was in my office dictating cases, getting ready to race home to change, fix my hair and reapply makeup for my date with Joe. Sienna poked her head into my office and I switched off the tape recorder.
“What’s up, Sienna?” I asked.
“The cops are here to see you,” she whispered.
I glanced out the window and saw an Eastham police car in the lot. “Oh, that’s just Sam,” I told her. “My brother-in-law.”
“He’s cute, too,” Sienna said thoughtfully. “In an old-guy kind of way.” Of course, for Sienna, anything past twenty-five was old, so no doubt Sam seemed close to death. I quickly ended my dictation and smiled as Sam came into the room. Thankfully, the leathery-faced, gravel-voiced Ethel wasn’t with him. She frightened me.